Here Goes Nothing
by Suburban Sun
Summary: In which a nervous Bright talks himself in and out of telling Hannah how he feels. Or, what was Bright thinking on the drive over in Where The Heart Is?


'**Here Goes Nothing'**

_You've really gotta stop being so nervous, man,_ was Bright's first thought as he unlocked his truck in the driveway. It was morning; he was on his way to see Hannah, to talk to her before she left for three months in Minnesota and while he still had the chance. What he hadn't expected when he had talked himself into doing this the previous night, however, was a stomach full of butterflies and a chest constricted with nerves.

_You've told girls you liked 'em before. A lot of girls. And so what if it never mattered as much with the others? It's still the same deal. Just walk up to her and say, "Hannah, I like you, and I'd like to make out with you." Simple. You can handle that, can't you? _

He fumbled with his keys for a few moments before sliding the correct one into the ignition. Emergency brake off, truck in Reverse.

_If that church-monkey ex-whatever of hers can manage to tell her he likes her, then you definitely can. You're much better looking than that dweeb. And you already know she likes you. _

A quick glance in the rearview mirror and he began to back out into the street, only to jerk to a stop, a sobering thought entering his mind.

_Well. Liked you. _

Truck in Drive. Bright pulled all the way back into the driveway and shifted the gear into Park, letting his head fall back onto the headrest.

_Shit. What if she's totally over you now? What if she really is hung up on Loafer and you're just old news? Shit. And you're about to go spill your guts to her and what if she shoots you down?_

He bit his lower lip for a moment, contemplating this, his confidence wavering. Then he shook his head as if to shake out all of his uncertainty.

_She won't. Stop being such a girl, Bright. Besides, how could she pick Loafer over you? Don't be ridiculous. You'll tell her how you feel and she'll probably look surprised for a minute, and then smile, and then you'll kiss her and she'll run her fingers through your hair and you'll slide your hand down her back, and maybe she'll moan a little into your mouth as you—_

The slight smile and glazed-over expression that had graced his face for a moment quickly faded as he brought himself back to reality.

_Dude. Stop it. You're gonna jinx it._

A deep breath, and Bright put the truck back in Reverse, backing all the way out of the driveway this time and starting to drive the familiar route to Nina's house. He turned the radio on, listened to a few seconds of a car insurance jingle, and then flipped it back off. It was not helping him think.

_What are you gonna say to her? You have to be cool, suave. You have to be sure to make it sound romantic—and don't say anything stupid. Don't say anything about how hot she is or something—girls don't like that. They wanna be liked for their personalities or whatever. But don't compliment her personality either, 'cause she'll think you're calling her ugly. God. Girls are so difficult._

Bright chuckled to himself. Difficult, indeed.

_What's she gonna say to you? You'll tell her how you feel and then what—she'll tell you she feels the same way? That she likes you too? That the sun rises and sets in your eyes or some poetic junk like that? Or what if she says she doesn't feel that way anymore? Aw, shit, Bright, man, pull yourself together! She won't say that!_

He began to chew his lower lip again, pausing at a stop sign before turning left onto Hale Street.

_Will she?_

Bright rolled his eyes and let his hand drop from the top to the bottom of the steering wheel. He looked out his window, idly watching a few kids race down the sidewalk on their bikes.

_Why are you so worked up about this? She's just a girl. You know how to handle girls. Just be cool and romantic and smooth and don't screw this up, because you really could screw it up pretty easily. Don't burp in the middle of it or anything like that. No farting either. In fact, it's probably best to avoid any bodily functions of any kind while you're talking to her. Or kissing her. _

He wrinkled his nose.

_Man, that'd be gross, to burp while you're kissing somebody. Avoid that too._

Pushing thoughts of bodily functions out of his mind, he switched the radio back on. Tuned to a classic rock station, it played a song he'd heard but couldn't place. Someone who must have been an icon in the 70's but was probably forever languishing in Where Are They Now history sang about kissing his girl, and it sent Bright's thoughts in a slightly different direction.

_How do you think she's gonna be to kiss? She's only ever dated Loafer, right, so maybe that means she's only ever kissed him, too? And so what if she's really bad at it? No, she won't be bad at it. Besides, if she sucks, you're really good at it so that'll make up for it. A bad kisser plus an extra good kisser equals…a good kisser? Or something. Math. Ugh. _

Another wrinkled nose as he turned onto Denton Road. He slowed to allow a pair of morning joggers to cross at the corner.

_What if you go to kiss her and she slaps you? That happens on TV all the time. But no, you're not going to kiss her if she doesn't seem like she wants you to. If you tell her you like her and she says, "Thank you Bright, but I'd rather shove bamboo under my fingernails than go out with you," you won't try and kiss her. That would probably be a warning sign that you're about to get smacked. _

That having been decided, he sped up a little, until something else occurred to him.

_What if _she_ burps? Or farts? Nah, girls don't do that. As long as you don't, either, you're golden._

The song on the radio ended and Bright flipped to a few different stations, each time hearing a snippet of a commercial, and finally turned it off again, returning silence to the truck with only his nervous thoughts to fill it.

_Man, what are you gonna say? "Hannah, I like you." "Hannah, over the course of the past several months, you and I have gotten to know each other really—" No, too stuffy. Not cool at all. "So Hannah, remember how you used to feel about me? Well I feel that way too." Nah, she'll probably think you mean when she was mad at you last week or something. This is tough. Maybe you should just think of something when you get there. Something'll come to you once you see her, probably. _

Nearly there. He felt some of his confidence returning, and the butterflies had subsided almost entirely. His eyes lit up slightly as he was struck with an idea.

_Ooh, maybe you should drive her to the airport. Yeah, she might need a ride, so you can drive her there and you can have some time to get comfortable talking to her and stuff before saying something to her. And you can have one of those movie moments, like at the airport when one person's about to leave and the other person admits their feelings or whatever. That's kinda sappy, but she might like it. _

With a self-satisfied smile, pleased that he had come up with something he thought would work, Bright turned left onto Nina's road. The house was coming into view just down the street.

_So, yes. Good plan. Offer to take her to the airport and then you can tell her there. _

Still a few houses down, he could see Hannah standing on Nina's front steps, her suitcases sitting next to her on the ground. A boy stood talking to her with his back to the road and a frown crossed Bright's face.

_There she is—who's she talking to? Oh man—what's the church-monkey doing here? Oh shit. Oh shit. Do they look happy? Did they get back together? Not that he was ever really her boyfriend or anything, she said—But are they getting back together now? What is he doing here, this is not in the plan!_

He slowed to a crawl, knowing that once Hannah saw him, there was no way out. He would have to talk to her, and suddenly he wasn't so sure if that was the right thing to do.

_Maybe you should go. Maybe this is a sign. Maybe this is God punishing you for not realizing how great she was months ago when you could have had had her, and now you've had your chance and now she's going to get back together with Loafer and they're going to live happily ever after and you'll be cold and alone. Maybe you should just leave, she might not have noticed you yet._

His mouth set in a firm, determined line, he shook his head. He couldn't let himself not do this now when it would be his last chance to see her for the summer. He eased his foot off the brake pedal and drove the rest of the way to the house, parking in front of the curb.

_Dammit Bright. You did not come here to chicken out. Even if he's trying to get back together with her (she broke up with him, right, not the other way around?), once she hears how you feel about her she'll pick you. Right? Yeah, dude, you're way better looking and much cooler than he is. There is no reason to panic. You are not wussing out. You are not leaving without telling her how you feel._

Truck in Park, key out of ignition. He took a deep, steadying breath and hoped he could keep the butterflies at bay for long enough to get rid of Topher and tell Hannah exactly what he'd come there to tell her. It was his last chance.

_Alright, get out of the truck. Get out of the damn truck. Open the door—good. Don't forget to grab her sweater, aka your excuse for being here in case you chicken out, which you _won't_. Okay. Now or never. Here goes nothing._


End file.
